Diary of Lexi
by misskikimarie
Summary: It hurts to remember; I try my hardest to forget, but, sometimes, I have to let it all out. Sometimes, there isn't any Advil or some vodka there for me to choke down, and I have to let it out somehow. I can't spend another night, staring at my ceiling, thinking and crying. There's no other reason I use this damn thing. None. (Side Effects- AwesomenessTV; not HTR.) eventual Zexi!


**A/N: I understand that this story has very little to do with How to Rock; the only thing that Side Effects and How to Rock really have in common is, well, Lulu. However, there isn't a section for Side Effects on the website, and I would really rather not put this in the Misc. TV shows section. I used one of the Misc. sections once. Very few kind, fandom-y people search through there, so I thought that this was my safest bet to actually get some views and feedback. Sorry if that offends you, I guess. Anyway, without further ado.. here's a thing. Hope you enjoy it.**

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**_Diary of Lexi_**

_It hurts to remember; I try my hardest to forget, but, sometimes, I have to let it all out. Sometimes, there isn't any Advil or some vodka there for me to choke down, and I have to let it out somehow. I can't spend another night, staring at my ceiling, thinking and crying. There's no other reason I use this damn thing. None. _

I remember the day I first noticed he was gone; I knew I hadn't seen him in awhile. I knew that he hadn't come to dinner or come to say goodnight to me or any of us, but- I thought that maybe he was just busy or something. Maybe he kept staying at work too late to see us. Maybe he kept leaving too early to say goodbye, and I already had so much on my mind. I still wasn't over the death- how could I be?- and I was still all about school. I was so focused on getting good grades on my quarterlies, so that I could keep that scholarship that it took me three days- it took me three days to notice he was gone, and I've never felt so ashamed in my life.

I woke up one Saturday, and my face was literally buried into my textbook. I still had one more test that coming Monday- science- and I couldn't fail, but, as I scrunched my eyes, as I drearily opened them and clambered out of my messy bed and sifted through the papers littering my floor, I couldn't help thinking back. I was afraid that I bombed my English test- of course, at the time, a failure to me was like a seventy- and, of course, it was the first thing that popped into my head, but then I started thinking about my family. I should have thought about them first, but, contrary to popular belief, I wasn't really that smart back then.

Sometimes, I saw Whitney carrying around a little box full of photographs. I knew I should have reminded her that she had tests to study for too, but that would require taking time away from my own cramming, which I wasn't willing to risk- _god forbid _I do that, really. She just went through the pictures one at a time; I don't know how she didn't get bored or even frustrated looking at the same thing over and over again. When I remember stuff like that, I feel like my head is going to explode, and I just start crying. I just-

Jason kept coming home early. He was excused from baseball practice back then. They were still giving us time to mourn over the loss; no adults would get on our backs at the time. It was weird having him around though. I usually only saw him much during school. It sounded awful, but I did. Sam, on the other hand, I was seeing less and less of every day. He always ran to his room the second he got home and didn't come out until dinner or if he had to go to the bathroom. And then Keith was still nowhere to be seen. We hadn't seen him since the funeral. After that, he went straight back to school. At the time, I thought it was good that he could still focus on education. I don't know what to think now. I think it was selfish not to stay with the rest of us, but maybe it was how he dealt with it himself, or maybe he just didn't care- No. No, he cared. I know he _does _care.

And, by that time, I was out of my room. I looked straight across the hall, and there was Dad's door. I smiled; it was Saturday, and he didn't work on Saturday, so he had to be home. _He had to be. _I thought that way in my innocent mind. Now... I know _he should have been._ I creaked open the door, called out to him, expecting a response. I was met with dead silence, and I waited for a couple of minutes, waiting for that response before I became desperate, and I started running around, trying to find him. I couldn't wait anymore. _Where was he?_ "Dad?! Dad?!" He never said anything. _Where was he?_ Jason, Whit, and Sam came out of their rooms. Whit had this horrible look on her face. She looked disappointed, upset, guilty- Sam and Jason just didn't want me to run all over town in search for him. I did try to leave the house. I got to the driveway when Jason picked me up and brought me back inside.

Where is he. Where is he. I couldn't stop screaming. They all tried to calm me down, except Whit. She ran to get one of her pills, and I guess she stayed there in the bathroom while I turned hysterical. Sam started crying too, and then Jason started yelling over me, yelling at both of us. "I don't know where he is! Stop crying! I'll just fucking call him!" He had tears when he screamed too though, and he didn't sound hopeful. Mom's death affected us all, but I know that it probably hurt him the most. He didn't need anxiety pills, and he didn't lock himself in his room, but his emotions were all over the place, and he was always so irritable; I haven't seen a spark of hope or happiness in his eyes in so long.

Whit came out. We tried calling about thirty times before we gave up. We all knew by the time we heard his voicemail for the fifth time that there was no point, but it was all that we could do. None of us wanted to admit to ourselves that our dad just ran away from us; he essentially abandoned us at our weakest moment. I was spluttering; tears gushed down my face and into my mouth, and I couldn't speak clearly. Jason was furious. Sam and Whit didn't say anything. Sam just curled into a ball and looked straight ahead of him with this far-off look while Whit had her hands folded, and she stared into her lap. Sometimes, she glanced up and watched Jason as he paced around. She glanced at me once or twice, but I think she stopped when she realized that it only made me feel worse. I nearly choked a few times as I continued to struggle for words.

It took me_ three days. _How did it take me three days? How was I that stupid? How didn't I realize that my own dad was gone..?

I can't write anymore. My head hurts; I need Advil.. I'm done with this.

-December 7th, _1st (and probably last) entry_


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